CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION

“STAND,” COMMANDED MALENDER, “for you are filled with crimes unbowed to justice. That is my job, and I will have it.” His declaration sounded overly formal, but then Hiram must have called him in to deal with a guilty verdict. The scourge coiled about his booted feet, its orange glow reflected like small suns on his black leather pants, his shirt opened at his throat, and his wavy hair seemed slightly blown back from his face from a wind that did not touch me. His presence filled me with fear that I had not felt around him for seasons. He did not look at me, however, his bright green gaze fixed on poor Jocosta who looked as though she might melt into ashes right there on the drive. “You have been judged.”

“No! Not me. Her,” and Jocosta flung her hand to point in my direction.

His body did not move, but his glance did, taking me in, and returning immediately to her. “They called me here, but I have no need to rely on the judgment of Iron Dwarves. I know sin when I see it. Punishment is mine to give out.”

I thought I knew what he had planned, and although I had run after to catch Jocosta, I didn’t want to see her flayed alive with the scourge. And I certainly didn’t want that deed to be on Malender. As terrible a being as he could be, I’d never sensed evil in him. “Let her go, Malender.”

“She deals with untruths that bring death. She deserves the justice that I am intended to deliver.”

I could see the shroud about her. Could smell its rank and oily odor. Could almost feel it as if I touched it, greasy and slimy beyond measure. Surely Mal could as well. If he did, he would know instinctively what it was that drove Jocosta to her crimes because a similar shroud had enveloped him for decades.

The deity looked at me again. “You have brought me back to my true self. Do you regret that?”

“Regret freeing you? Never. But can’t you see that she’s as possessed as you were? That Nicolo has his hooks in her?” The air shuddered about me at the sound of the vampire’s name. I shouldn’t have said it; I knew that too late now, but how else to tell Malender without saying it? My throat suddenly went dry, and I lost what other words I would have added. So I brought up my salt spell, and—with a few passes of my hands and a choked word or two that might not be enough—I dropped the cloud over Jocosta Flintridge.

He stepped back hastily, having been deluged before and not enjoying the sting. His whip hissed and spat as the flames ate bits of excess crystal bouncing about the driveway.

As for Jocosta—it buried her up to her neck, after having appeared over her and cascading down and around her, and she began to weep. Whether in pain or fear, I couldn’t tell, but I felt sorry for her. Her wails filled the air. I knew the caustic effect the salt had on her shroud and how she must be blistering as it ate away her binding. Did she miss it as well? Would being expunged that way destroy her as it had almost destroyed Malender once?

I put a hand out toward Mal. “Help her!”

“She would have seen you dead.”

“She couldn’t help it; she was too far gone. Can’t you do something?”

“I am Justice.”

“Justice is not worth it without mercy,” I told him. “Maybe your world is filled with absolutes, but mine is pretty . . . wibbly-wobbly.”

His brows rose in his elegant face. “Wibbly-wobbly?”

“Yes!”

“And what might you mean by that?”

“Nothing is all black or all white. There are shades of gray everywhere.”

“This is where many humans go wrong. They misjudge their errors. This is why a being like myself must exist.”

“Everyone needs mercy as you needed it once. I believed in you. You scared me to hell and back, but I believed in you.”

“I owe you a life-debt. Very well.” He stepped close to Jocosta, his boots crunching on the salt, and his gaze locked onto her pale, tear-soaked face. “Your life has been begged of me. Do you understand?”

I backed up a step. “I didn’t ask that of you,” but Jocosta’s response overrode mine.

She whispered, “I can see again.”

Had the vampire blinded her to everything but his will? Perhaps. I didn’t know what she meant, but I could hear the change in her voice.

“I asked if you understood what Tessa Andrews wants of me.”

“M-mercy.”

“I am not inclined to offer it.” Malender bowed his head a moment, a stray lock of hair falling onto his forehead. He seemed to be contemplating.

I became aware that Carter stood at my left elbow and the professor at my right. “Be careful,” Gregory warned. “He is borne into his full powers now and not amenable to mortal persuasion.”

Carter disagreed. “He has always listened to Tessa. Or at least had a dialogue with her.”

Malender lifted his head and looked toward us. He gave a nod of acknowledgment and recognition before adding, “You would both be wise not to interfere with me.”

Did I want to see the deity of Justice brawling with my sun lion and phoenix wizard? No, I most certainly did not. It could very well turn into a scorched earth battlefield, and I don’t think Mal had any idea that the Wild Hunt ranged not far from Hiram’s backyard and might be pulled in as well. It would be a war of supernatural powers such as the modern-day world has never seen. No, I didn’t intend for this to be any sort of a last stand for any of us. I ventured, “That life-debt.”

“Yes.” His brilliantly green eyes rested on my face with their stern gaze, but I could see a little gleam in them as well. I amused him, for reasons I had never understood. He tolerated me as I gathered he tolerated few people. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Carter put his hand on my wrist. Warm, comforting, and his touch requested my attention. “Do not,” he said, “ask for her life in exchange for your life-debt. It is worth more than you know. We will find a way to save her.”

Advice on making deals with deities, huh. I should respect his words; he knew what he was talking about. If I had any doubt, the professor said on my other side, “Listen to Carter. It could be vital.”

I could only think of one battle where it might mean everything to have Malender on our side, and that thought gave me pause. I spread my hands. “I didn’t ask for it to be canceled by saving Jocosta, only that you find within yourself some small pity and understanding. I’m not giving her mercy, you would be.”

“Yet knowing what I am, and what I must do having been restored to myself, you should realize the difficulty of what you propose.”

I exhaled forcefully, a little afraid of the word games he seemed to want to play. I decided to call Malender’s bluff. “All right, then. Do what you have to,” and began pivoting on my heel. I caught sight of Carter’s amazed expression, and hidden humor on the professor’s face, shadowed by that fedora. “I’ll be greatly disappointed in you if you can’t find that in yourself, but it’s your choice, so I guess I’ll have to accept it.”

My words hung palpably in the air between us. Malender stood as a powerful, charismatic being. I’d always been in awe of him and that would never stop, but, yes, I’d be really disappointed if he couldn’t look at Jocosta and see that Nicolo had enslaved her will and controlled her. Who could have stood up to that? He hadn’t, once upon a time. I don’t know how long Nicolo’s vampiric shroud had surrounded and cut off Malender, but it might even have stretched into centuries. Could he not look at a Fire Dwarf now and understand the surrender?

“You did not dare to remind me of myself.” He echoed my thoughts as if having read the last of them.

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Malender tilted his head ever so slightly. “No. No, you do not.” He chopped his hand in the air and rain began to fall, heavily, from skies that had been cold weather clear a second ago. The drops drenched Jocosta who eventually stood, freed, in an ankle-deep puddle while the professor had opened an umbrella ridiculously big enough to cover all three of us. Not a drop of rain, naturally, touched Malender. His whip stayed, lethally sharp and flamboyantly aflame, pooled in loops about his booted feet.

“Your people,” he said to her, “will undoubtedly have other punishments. You can treat them as an interruption of your life or an enrichment of the purpose of it.” He gave a slight bow in my direction. “Tessa of the Salt.” Malender snapped the whip up, so that it revolved about his torso, and disappeared in a haze of smoke that smelled of cedar and a touch of sulfur.

Jocosta collapsed to her knees, put her hands to her face, and began to cry again, a quiet, heart-wrenching act of sorrow.

The professor had evidently been holding his breath, for he gave a low growl and muttered, “That was close.”

Carter caught me by the chin and turned my face toward his. “You take the oddest chances with magic.”

“Do you think he heard?”

He didn’t ask who. He knew. Carter shrugged slightly. “Likely. If we’re lucky, it will have been just enough to pique his interest, not enough to come investigate. He knows where we are, currently, and Hiram’s clans generally have good defenses against him.”

“Jocosta didn’t.”

“No, but I imagine the clan elders will be discussing that deep into the next few nights. How did you know?”

I shook my head slightly. “I saw it. I couldn’t understand how none of you seemed to see it, too. I knew, after what Malender had been through, how it must have been agony. Carter, I’ve seen those souls on their hooks at the Butchery.”

“You seem certain.”

“I couldn’t mistake it.”

The professor had unwound himself and began walking back to the main house. We trailed after, Scout trotting quietly by my side.

“I’ve been working on the task force trying to pin down his bases of operation.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing.”

“It is. He’s mostly underground, with tentacles everywhere, and his forces are as deeply interwoven into his doings as they can be. We can’t really shake anyone loose to give evidence against him, and we’ve never been able to get anyone undercover with him. His control is legendary. That’s when I realized what he was, and why we couldn’t get to his operations. But imagine my telling the DEA or FBI that we’re hunting a vampire.”

“No one would believe you.”

“Exactly.”

Hiram and others buffeted past us, going to Jocosta and raising her to her feet, some gentle and some shouting at her. I looked back over my shoulder. “I feel sorry for her.”

“That says more about you than her.” Carter put his arm about my waist, drawing me close, so that we walked in tandem, keeping each other warm, Scout trailing.

“What do you think is going to happen to her?”

“No idea. However,” and he looked at the bank of windows by the door in use, “I’d say everything we did was closely observed.”

“But my mother . . .”

“You have to be on guard.”

“I’ll turn them in if I have to. Anyone who threatens us.” I put my head on his shoulder. “It would be nice to have it in writing, though.”

“Oh, they won’t do that,” said Gregory. “That would put them in a very precarious position having asked for the death penalty in the first place. No, it’s likely that they’ll bluster a bit, step back, and put it on hold. It is, also, still possible for Mary to put in a rewrite of sorts that might soften her view.”

The Mary in question joined us on the steps and heard the last few remarks. “No,” my mom said. “I don’t think I’ll be doing any rewriting. The kernel of my paper is, after all, the veil that hides magic.”

“Please understand, Mary, that there is an enemy which will use that paper as justification for its actions. The matter won’t stop here.”

She and Gregory traded a long look. “Are you certain?”

“Nothing is certain about that enemy except that he has many strategies. His roots go back centuries. I am shocked that he found a way into the clans, a near impossible group to infiltrate. But Tessa has something he covets, and he’ll do what he must to attain it, in addition to his many other misdeeds.”

“Is there a way to stop him? What if she gives him the stone?”

“And add to his powers? No way, Mom. I’d have to be crazy to do something like that.” Or desperate. I might become desperate at some point, but I wasn’t yet.

“In the meantime,” Carter added, “We have already stopped several attempts, so we’re ahead of the game. He knows he has an opponent with allies and powers. He’ll be cautious.”

“How about we convince him to quit?”

Carter shook me lightly. “Don’t even think it.”

“We have to do something.”

“We,” he said firmly, “will think of something.”

Hiram joined us as we walked into his house, the warm air inviting and still smelling of the afternoon feast. He cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology.”

“Maybe.”

He twitched a bit at my answer. “You have to understand my concerns.”

“You might have discussed them with us first, you know.”

He gave a little salute to me. “Well I know it. Circumstances, however, seemed far different at the time. The dissertation shocked me. I’ll admit I feared to read it completely.”

“At least you found your traitor.”

“That we know of. It is like that old saying, one bad apple spoils the barrel. Have we more? I’ll be busy determining that. I’d like to know how you saw it in her.”

I could see the weariness and worry in his eyes. “It was the Sight. You have it, don’t you?”

“We do, and yet we didn’t see her in a true light. How did she appear to you?”

“A vampiric shroud wrapped about her. It might have been difficult to see apart from her normal shadow, but I could tell.”

Hiram muttered a curse to himself before noting, “We shall have to sharpen our skills. As much as we avoid the modern world, we seem to have lost our ability to cope with it. The traps are many.”

“I’ll help when I can, if you need it. What are friends for, anyway?”

A troubled look ran across his face so quickly I wasn’t quite sure I’d seen what I’d seen. He put a thumb into a suspender strap, looking away from us, and mumbled, “Our friendship is, at best, strained and must stay that way for the moment. The clans are not as forgiving, and it will take months, perhaps even years, to clear their minds on this. Tessa, I need the journal back as soon as possible. It wasn’t mine alone to surrender, and it belongs with the clans. I’m sorry to have to tell you this and I hope you understand.”

My mom stepped forward and gave him a slight hug. “We do. Now you have to understand that a dissertation isn’t a best-selling novel and not likely to have many readers. It’ll stay mired in academia.”

“You need to give yourself more credit. What I read was quite enjoyable and gave credence to my fears.”

“Well, thank you, Hiram. We look forward to the day when you step into our house again.”

He did not respond to that, but lines etched a sad look into his face.

I thought a minute. “I’ll forgive you for a box of chocolate éclairs, if you have any left over.”

His eyes narrowed a bit as he thought and nodded. “We very well might. I know I ordered extra.”

Sure enough, the catering company coughed up a pink doughnut box filled with éclairs and a waxed paper bag full of bones and scraps for Scout. I accepted them with open arms as the pup danced about my feet, and we took our leave. It wasn’t the apology I needed, but for the moment, I’d take what we could: our lives and éclairs.

The weather held as we drove home, Mom’s car following ours, and Scout making impatient noises in the backseat, eager to get at his doggie bag, but I could see clouds boiling on the horizon. Winter seemed far from being at bay, and if not tonight, then tomorrow would be bitter and slushy. Carter and I didn’t say much, both of us somber because of losing Hiram. It might be temporary, it might not.

Entering our neighborhood, a dog’s body lay splayed across the road. Bloodied and limp, obviously dead, but not obvious if it had been hit by a car or what. Carter came to a stop.

“Stay here.”

I had no intention of arguing with him. He got out and bent down just long enough to get a close look before straightening and returning.

As he put the car back into gear, he said, “Nasty bit of work. Has this been happening around here?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Do you still do your training in the area? I know you run. Don’t. Something is at work here, something vicious.”

“Got it. Not even with Scout?”

“He’d give his life for you, but if you don’t get in that situation, it would be even better.”

“Okay.” Scout’s head hung over the console between us, his eyes wary as he looked from one to another. I pushed on his muzzle, forcing him back. “Not now,” I told him and after another worried eye roll, he retreated.

“What do you think it is?”

“Other than something that enjoys killing? No idea. I’m worried about Steptoe, though.”

“Simon? Why?”

Carter wouldn’t take his eyes off the road to look at me.

“Not Simon!”

“He is a demon, even if a lesser one.”

“He’s come over to the light side!”

“He’s trying, but he has basic impulses he might not be able to deny. I don’t know enough about them to tell you how his metabolism even functions.”

“On hot tea and cookies, if I had to make a guess.” I stared out the side window. An intense sadness settled about me. I hadn’t freed my father, I’d lost Hiram, my mother’s career could be in jeopardy, the professor was back but wasn’t, and the rest of my world seemed to be in upheaval as well. Our death sentences hung suffocatingly close. There were times when I couldn’t see the victories for the losses.

We both lapsed into silence until Carter pulled in the driveway. He turned about. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

“What, me? Foolish?”

“And stubborn.” He leaned forward to kiss the tip of my nose. “I’ll call in a bit.”

“My cell phone is portable. I could be answering it from anywhere.”

“I expect you to be at home.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I swung my legs out and instantly felt a cold that wanted to settle into my bones, brittle and deep. My nose went icy, along with my ears. I balanced the box and bag while I stood. “Coming in?”

“No, work to do. I took the afternoon off to be with you.”

“Awww. That’s so sweet.”

“Isn’t it? Save me an éclair.”

I looked at the box. Hefted it to make sure it weighed sufficiently enough that there would be leftovers. “You’ve got a chance. No guarantee, though.”

“Don’t make me put a spell on you.”

“You can do that?”

“Well,” Carter answered. “It depends on how I rank with you compared to how chocolate éclairs rank with you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s going to be very, very close.”

Laughing, he reached over to pull the door closed after me, and as the car pulled away, I could still hear his cheer. It sounded nice.

Scout danced around my feet as we went inside. I’d left the furnace on at a reasonable level, so it wasn’t cozy warm but neither did the house hold a chill. I dropped the box and bag on the kitchen counter, calling for Steptoe as I went to the thermostat and boosted the heat setting.

“Simon! I’ve got pastries from the luncheon!”

My voice echoed through the empty house. Mom hadn’t come home yet with the professor, and who knows what they were up to. I didn’t want to think about it. I peeked in the mudroom to see if I’d caught him napping on his cot there, but it stood empty, with a few rumpled blankets to show he’d been there once upon a time, just not now. I had no idea where he could have gone or what he might be attempting to do, only that it was unlike him not to be about. Was he still out chasing the elusive professor’s trail? I’d missed him before. Now I was just plain worried about him.

In the kitchen, I had to give Scout some of the scraps promised to him before he had a conniption fit and to reward him for his good behavior under stressful circumstances. I decided to reward myself, too. I snagged an éclair and went upstairs for a nap. Being unconscious for a while appealed as a really sound solution to the day. I put my pods in, tuned in the music, and closed my eyes.

Evelyn’s call woke me, but only because the phone vibrated somewhere under my chin and shoulder. I answered with a yawn.

“It went great, didn’t it? Don’t you think?”

“It seemed to.” I tried to stifle another yawn. “Did you get any feedback from your parents?”

“Dad liked him. Mom seemed cautious.”

“You didn’t hit them with anything like ‘this is the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with,’ did you?”

“Not exactly.”

I rubbed a bit of sleep from my right eye. “What do you mean by that?” Silence from her end. “Evie.”

“I told them that I hoped they liked him because I could see myself in a relationship with him. My father said ‘Fine, I don’t like you flitting about,’ and my mom said, ‘It’s a little early, but he seems nice.’ Honestly, do they even see me as an adult?”

“They do, and that’s okay, then. Would you rather they’d gone all Romeo and Juliet on you and forbidden you to see him?”

“I guess.”

I sat up and stretched before putting the phone to my ear again. “What did you expect?” She was twenty-one, I was twenty, I doubted if any of our parents looked to marry us off yet.

“More enthusiasm?”

“Maybe,” I suggested, “if you waited until after the inauguration and your dad settled into office, they might not have their minds full of other business. They’re busy right now.”

“True! I need to remember that. The caterers were great, weren’t they? I think our reception will go well. I’ll have to remind Dad to switch the menu up a bit.”

“But keep the desserts!”

“Definitely. It should go fine.”

“If we’re not in a snowstorm, agreed.”

“I looked the weather up,” Evelyn said seriously. “Cold with overnight freezes, but no rain or snow. Tuesday night should be fine.”

“I don’t know who decided to invent swearing-in ceremonies in the middle of January, anyway.”

“I think it’s supposed to be a comment on the survival of the fittest.”

I laughed at Evelyn. “You could be right.”

Now it was her turn to yawn. Before she could sign off, I stopped her. “Wait. You haven’t had anything strange happening around your neighborhood, have you?”

“It’s gated. Not much of anything happens here. Why?”

“Oh, pets missing, that kind of thing.”

“How awful! It’s not . . . not supernatural, is it?”

“I don’t know. If you hear anything, you’ll tell me?”

Evelyn took a breath. “Of course! Now I’d better go to sleep before Mother comes in and tries to take my phone away.”

“Good luck with that!”

And then she was gone, and the silence seemed immense.

I slouched back down into bed. Scout gave a little whine at being disturbed and rolled over on his back. We slept until the sound of Mom doing early morning laundry woke us.

She was all dressed and ready to leave, one hip up against the dryer and her phone in her hands when I leaned around the corner.

“It’s Sunday,” I informed her.

“It is. And I have a date for brunch.”

That thought lurched around in my skull a bit. “Really? Seriously? Who with?”

“You wouldn’t know her. She’s also on the department secretarial staff—Becky Sawsmith.”

I wondered if she was lying to me because I really hadn’t ever heard the name before. “Ummm. Okay.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be nice to all the secretaries once in a while. They do a lot of the work behind the scenes. It’s the secretaries that have always pitched me as a professor. I need her balance against Faith Hawkins if I intend to put my paper into publication. I’ve got recommends from most of the committee. One way or another, I intend to end this.”

“Ah. So you fill up your schedule as you fill up their stomachs?”

“Believe it or not, yes, if it’s the only way to get classes assigned and get the presses rolling.” She slipped her phone into the outside pocket of her purse. “What’s your day going to be like?”

I looked at the baskets on the floor. “Finishing the laundry, for one. And then I have to go online and do some work on my spring semester. They’re nagging me for a major. I have my schedule, but they’re not happy.”

“Still?”

I shrugged. “Haven’t told them.”

“You don’t look like you’ve any idea, either.”

I sat down on a rickety old three-legged stool that we’d inherited with the house. It was at least as old, if not older than Aunt April, and we had put it in the laundry room to keep it clear of Iron Dwarves who could reduce it to kindling and splinters. “Once upon a time, I wanted to be an architect. Gave up that idea. Too expensive and a wee bit too much math for me.”

“I had no idea. Architecture?”

“Buildings fascinated me. It’s different now. Maybe I’ve grown or changed, but it’s not the buildings anymore, even though they’re magnificent. It’s the people who need them, want them, live in them.”

“But you want to do something . . . ?”

“I still want to build bridges, but maybe . . .” I paused, suddenly unable to say what I wanted.

She waited, a slight smile on her lips, for me to find the words.

I managed. “Between people.”

“Like a psychologist?”

“Not really. Maybe a mediator.” One of her eyebrows arched up. I waved a hand. “I know, I know, I’ve a temper, and it sounds stupid. I know. But if there were a way to get people to sit down and listen to one another, it might help, right? Everyone deserves a voice. I read today that people listen so that they can respond, but they should listen so they can understand.”

“I think this is personal for you.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess it is. Losing Hiram and all . . . he should have come to us and talked it over, first.”

“I agree. Now all you have to do is find a job that fits that description.”

“I’m not sure there is one.”

“Diplomat, although you’re talking about a smaller scale.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t see you in poli sci. I think you should look into culture and ethnic studies.”

I didn’t have any of those classes in my background. “Why?”

“You need to know and understand the peoples of the world, first, before you get into the peoples of the unknown world. Their likes and dislikes. Their ways. Their taboos. The commonalities as well as the differences. You need to have a very thorough knowledge of what you’ll face when you sit down to work with them, don’t you think? Anthropology and cultural studies will give that to you. Some of it is guesswork, admittedly, but many cultures have survived to modern times. I think you’d be good at it.”

She made sense. I put a finger up. “But I have no background in it yet. I would have to add a year, maybe even two in order to graduate Skyhawk and more years at university beyond that.”

“If you do, you do. Anything worth having is worth working for, right? Whether you study here, or if we have to move, you’ll be able to find the classes you need. We’ll get through it. And just think, with your background—and mine—you will be an expert in fields that haven’t even been invented yet.” She straightened. “I hate to leave now, but I have to. Talk more when we get home?”

“All right, but I still have that paperwork to get in.”

She smoothed my cheek as she passed by. “Don’t fret over it. They’ll change it for you if they have to. College counselors have learned to be flexible, if nothing else.”